I've been upset lately, after looking back on four years of required high school English classes. It turns out I can't pinpoint one single thing I've learned in English. I feel like I've gotten something out of it, don't get me wrong. I have had some brilliant people for English teachers. I just haven't absorbed a single, outstanding fact. One thing I do remember, however, was an activity we completed in Mr. Orr's AP English Language and Composition class called "I Believe Statement". Essentially the idea is to write "I believe" and then what you believe. Sounds easy, but it isn't. I strongly suggest every one of my readers tries it, though. There's a lot you can learn about yourself by asking what you believe. I'll go first.
I believe in science. I believe in logic. I believe in Charles Darwin, Audrey Hepburn, and John Steinbeck.
I believe in ethics. I believe we're affected by our circumstances but not determined by them. I believe culture is irrelevant. I believe history isn't just the past, it's the future.
I believe in the power of lyrics and poetry and the beauty of Indie rock. I believe in protest and in raising awareness. I believe in saying what you mean. I believe in truth, always. I believe omission is lying. I believe in the dangers of global climate change. I believe change starts at the bottom and works its way up, but it can start from one person and work its way down too.
I believe Christmas isn't just for Christians. I believe facebook has an amazing power to connect and I believe Mac owners are one hundred times cooler than P.C. owners. I believe we should only have children if we want them and our mistakes shouldn't define our lives. I believe in conserving water, but also in an at least weekly long bath.
I believe that women and men are equal, period. I believe in writing and thinking and listening and speaking and reading and loving and laughing and crying and winning and losing and wanting and needing and longing and hoping. I believe everyone will have one great heartbreak, and I believe I got mine early. I believe a tree can grow in Brooklyn. I believe a family can grow out of the Dust Bowl. I believe in black and white films and in vinyl. I believe in pushing the boundaries just to show where they are. I believe in Lady Gaga.
I believe everyone has the right to safety and liberty. I believe that the most important thing in the world is happiness. I believe we all believe that deep down, whether or not we say it. I believe humankind is too judgemental. I believe we should, could, and would be happy, if we let ourselves. I believe no one can really stand between you and achieving the happiness you deserve.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Honesty? More Like Insult
So I have a little something about which to rant. Why are people fascinated with formspring.me and with the Honesty Box? The idea behind these applications, as you may or may not know, is that they are an anonymous way for people to ask or answer questions about you. In other words, they invite people who would never insult you to your face to do it surreptitiously over the internet. I suppose these things could be used for good, although I'm not sure how...amusement, maybe. But more often than not, they become vessels for insult. I'll never forget my own brief stint with Honesty Box. I received plenty of responses to the silly little questions I asked, and generally, they were not nice. Not at all nice. So I deleted the Honesty Box. As a matter of fact, most of my friends came to the same conclusion and deleted theirs. This was about six months ago. It seems everyone has forgotten, as now the trend of getting a formspring.me account is sweeping through my friends like proverbial wildfire. Do yourselves a favor, dear readers, and just don't. Resist the temptation to encourage people to lower your self-esteem.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Crazy
Why are we so fascinated with crazy people? Okay, I know that "crazy" isn't politically correct. I also realize that I can not speak for everyone. Perhaps you, dear reader, have no interest in crazy people. But anyway, I do, and it's something I need to think about...
I'm currently reading Shutter Island by Dennis Lehane, which is about a mental institution. My favorite movies of the past week have been Gray Gardens and Uninvited. My best girl friend is thinking about becoming a psychologist. One of my favorite exhibits in Colonial Williamsburg is a restored mental hospital. You see, I always make fun of psychology. Or psychological SCIENCE, as its proponents like to call it. But the truth is, I find it interesting. I love the idea of defining what kind of crazy people are, especially people who seem outwardly indefinable.
Why do we love to hear about, talk about, and read about crazies? What is it about people who have snapped that so interests us? I have a few theories, but truth be told, I don't rightly know.
Maybe it's because everyone's afraid they're a little crazy, and hearing about people with bigger problems than themselves provides some evidence that they're stable. As in, I might be a bit off, but at least I'm not crazy like that person. Do we need people so far away from the accepted norm in order to prove that we're closer to the norm than we think?
My other theory is that we are always fascinated by things we don't understand, like when I met a computer hacker once. I don't understand how computers work, and I stared at the poor guy in wonder for five minutes straight. Maybe it's like that. This makes sense to me, because I always try to put people in categories, little mental compartments. Someone who is so far out of my abilities to categorize rolls over and over in my mind until I find a way to make them fit. We don't really know much about how the mind works in a sane person, so how it works in an insane one is beyond our sphere of comprehension and categorization. There is another possibility, as I see it...what if we're worried that the insane ones are the only people who really understand the way the world works?
Just a little something to think about.
I'm currently reading Shutter Island by Dennis Lehane, which is about a mental institution. My favorite movies of the past week have been Gray Gardens and Uninvited. My best girl friend is thinking about becoming a psychologist. One of my favorite exhibits in Colonial Williamsburg is a restored mental hospital. You see, I always make fun of psychology. Or psychological SCIENCE, as its proponents like to call it. But the truth is, I find it interesting. I love the idea of defining what kind of crazy people are, especially people who seem outwardly indefinable.
Why do we love to hear about, talk about, and read about crazies? What is it about people who have snapped that so interests us? I have a few theories, but truth be told, I don't rightly know.
Maybe it's because everyone's afraid they're a little crazy, and hearing about people with bigger problems than themselves provides some evidence that they're stable. As in, I might be a bit off, but at least I'm not crazy like that person. Do we need people so far away from the accepted norm in order to prove that we're closer to the norm than we think?
My other theory is that we are always fascinated by things we don't understand, like when I met a computer hacker once. I don't understand how computers work, and I stared at the poor guy in wonder for five minutes straight. Maybe it's like that. This makes sense to me, because I always try to put people in categories, little mental compartments. Someone who is so far out of my abilities to categorize rolls over and over in my mind until I find a way to make them fit. We don't really know much about how the mind works in a sane person, so how it works in an insane one is beyond our sphere of comprehension and categorization. There is another possibility, as I see it...what if we're worried that the insane ones are the only people who really understand the way the world works?
Just a little something to think about.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Et Encore, Je Fais Des Listes
Good afternoon, readers. I hope you all fare well. Not that you asked, but yes, I fare well. Particularly well, in fact, because I am now finished with the first semester of the most stressful class I have ever taken. Here is a list to explain.
Things I Have Learned from Online AP European History:
Things I Have Learned from Online AP European History:
- The defenestration of Prague is hilarious.
- The Concert of Europe involves no music whatsoever.
- The French are amazing, always have been amazing, and always will be amazing.
- Russia is cold, always had been cold, and always will be cold. It's their primary military strategy.
- Germans can not unify, ever.
- Italians are very pro-Italy.
- England and France fight all the time over meaningless things.
- Industry is good for money, bad for people.
- Jeremy Bentham was not only RIGHT, he was considered a Liberal. Which makes him even better.
- Writing an essay full of BS about a subject on which you know nothing will warrant a higher grade than writing a factual one about some subject with which you are familiar.
- Some things are better heard than read.
- Some things are better read than heard.
- Teamwork!
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Blackout!
Hello again, dear readers! I want to begin by informing you all how much I appreciate your support. This project started out as a sort of online diary- I figured no one would ever read it. But this has not been the case thanks to you! Big hugs. Also, if you're trying to comment on my posts and it isn't working, send me an email at lindseybrigitte@gmail.com. I know the comment system hasn't been working for a while...as a matter of fact, if you've left a comment AT ALL, go ahead and email me...I haven't gotten any of them. I want to know what you think about my writing!
Enough logistics. Back to writing and such.
I held a workshop for the literary magazine members on Tuesday that was a great success! It was inspired by the poetry of Austin Kleon. Basically, Kleon takes pages out of newspapers, selects the words he likes, and colors the rest in with Sharpie, such that only the poem shows through. Here's his website if you're interested: http://www.austinkleon.com/
My Austin-Kleon-style newspaper blackout poem went as follows:
Crazy people think there's actually a precedent
For the drop in gas prices
hopefully, it won't take
another 40 years to
get change we can all believe in
There were a great many good poems produced at the workshop, all of them better than mine. But it was a fun experience, and I think I helped to get the LitMag's creative juices flowing. You see, there seems to have been a contagious strand of writer's block going around, and I wanted to do something to help. Thus the balckout poem workshop. The point behind newspaper blackout poetry isn't just to make cool poem art out of cheap stuff. It's to show that there is poetry everywhere, you just have to know where and how to look for it. Even the Business section of USA Today can be artistic. (That's where my poem came from!)
Enough logistics. Back to writing and such.
I held a workshop for the literary magazine members on Tuesday that was a great success! It was inspired by the poetry of Austin Kleon. Basically, Kleon takes pages out of newspapers, selects the words he likes, and colors the rest in with Sharpie, such that only the poem shows through. Here's his website if you're interested: http://www.austinkleon.com/
My Austin-Kleon-style newspaper blackout poem went as follows:
Crazy people think there's actually a precedent
For the drop in gas prices
hopefully, it won't take
another 40 years to
get change we can all believe in
There were a great many good poems produced at the workshop, all of them better than mine. But it was a fun experience, and I think I helped to get the LitMag's creative juices flowing. You see, there seems to have been a contagious strand of writer's block going around, and I wanted to do something to help. Thus the balckout poem workshop. The point behind newspaper blackout poetry isn't just to make cool poem art out of cheap stuff. It's to show that there is poetry everywhere, you just have to know where and how to look for it. Even the Business section of USA Today can be artistic. (That's where my poem came from!)
Monday, January 4, 2010
A Day in the Life
Good afternoon, dear readers. Today was the return to school. *eyes rolling* I shall recount my day for my own amusement.
6:50 am: I get several text messages wishing me a good morning and day at school. I am very lahved.
7:10 am: I get accidentally elbowed in the nose. I swear it's broken. My friend tells me it isn't. It still hurts as I write.
7:30 am: We begin to study the Reproductive System in Honors Coloring. Much awkward ensues.
8:45 am: Online, my friend finds a wooly mammoth stuffed animal for sale. He stares at it for twenty minutes, drooling over its cute combination of Wookie and Lolrus. We then have a conversation about an aspic cat, and whether this is a cat encased in aspic or a cat made of aspic. Either is disgusting.
9:00 am: My nose still hurts.
9:30 am: I do some actual work.
10:00 am: My friends are listening to an acoustic Three Days Grace Album.
11:00 am: I discover a poet from Texas who writes by taking pages out of newspapers and blacking out the parts he doesn't want. I am mesmerized for quite a while.
12:20 pm: Lunch time! My friends are discussing D&D, and I feel left out, but I don't want to be included, either...I start gossiping with the only girls at the table.
1:40 pm: Part one of four of the calculus exam. Brain rape. So painful...until my teacher informs me my grade on it doesn't matter because I am exempt from the exam!!!
2:20 pm: I sit in my car in the parking lot at school for at least 15 minutes. I am cut off by a truck with the number 2400 on its side. This is the biggest effing truck I have ever seen. My car shakes in horror.
2:30 pm: My nose hurts.
3:45 pm: I attempt to return some unopened DVDs to Wal-Mart for store credit to give to my mom. I hate Wal-Mart. I hope no one sees me...two people do. One asks what I'm doing in Wal-Mart.
4:00 pm: I am hungry, and I have a coupon for a free apple pie at McDonald's. A McDonald's happens to be attached to Wal-Mart. I claim my pie. Upon closer inspection, after leaving the store, there is a wiry black hair in my pie. My hair is neither wiry nor black. I take a bite anyway, only to discover the expiration date. Which has already passed. I am angry, grossed out, and still hungry, so I go to Taco Bell for a taco. Tacos are similar to pies, are they not?
4:30 pm: I am finally home, to attempt some homework. Perhaps tomorrow will be a better day...As a matter of fact, I'm sure it shall be, as I shall be spending some time with the Czar, a very agreeable person. :)
6:50 am: I get several text messages wishing me a good morning and day at school. I am very lahved.
7:10 am: I get accidentally elbowed in the nose. I swear it's broken. My friend tells me it isn't. It still hurts as I write.
7:30 am: We begin to study the Reproductive System in Honors Coloring. Much awkward ensues.
8:45 am: Online, my friend finds a wooly mammoth stuffed animal for sale. He stares at it for twenty minutes, drooling over its cute combination of Wookie and Lolrus. We then have a conversation about an aspic cat, and whether this is a cat encased in aspic or a cat made of aspic. Either is disgusting.
9:00 am: My nose still hurts.
9:30 am: I do some actual work.
10:00 am: My friends are listening to an acoustic Three Days Grace Album.
11:00 am: I discover a poet from Texas who writes by taking pages out of newspapers and blacking out the parts he doesn't want. I am mesmerized for quite a while.
12:20 pm: Lunch time! My friends are discussing D&D, and I feel left out, but I don't want to be included, either...I start gossiping with the only girls at the table.
1:40 pm: Part one of four of the calculus exam. Brain rape. So painful...until my teacher informs me my grade on it doesn't matter because I am exempt from the exam!!!
2:20 pm: I sit in my car in the parking lot at school for at least 15 minutes. I am cut off by a truck with the number 2400 on its side. This is the biggest effing truck I have ever seen. My car shakes in horror.
2:30 pm: My nose hurts.
3:45 pm: I attempt to return some unopened DVDs to Wal-Mart for store credit to give to my mom. I hate Wal-Mart. I hope no one sees me...two people do. One asks what I'm doing in Wal-Mart.
4:00 pm: I am hungry, and I have a coupon for a free apple pie at McDonald's. A McDonald's happens to be attached to Wal-Mart. I claim my pie. Upon closer inspection, after leaving the store, there is a wiry black hair in my pie. My hair is neither wiry nor black. I take a bite anyway, only to discover the expiration date. Which has already passed. I am angry, grossed out, and still hungry, so I go to Taco Bell for a taco. Tacos are similar to pies, are they not?
4:30 pm: I am finally home, to attempt some homework. Perhaps tomorrow will be a better day...As a matter of fact, I'm sure it shall be, as I shall be spending some time with the Czar, a very agreeable person. :)
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